


sunset ridge

by KiraYoshikage



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, First Date, Fluff, Trans Female Character, Trans!Sloane, brief makeouts towards the end, lots of swearing and dick jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2016-12-21
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:23:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8937838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiraYoshikage/pseuds/KiraYoshikage
Summary: you wake up in my arms, and it feels like home





	

Hurley turned a corner, eyes jumping to each moving person or creature in the alleyways as she powerwalked through a Goldcliff slum. In her hands was a small envelope she had received that morning; she looked anxiously at the small envelope in her hands as she walked along the streets. It was amber-colored, with a gentle gold embossing on it saying "TO THE RAM".

Hurley put her hand over her eyes and sighed again at the sight of the name. She knew exactly who it was from; nobody in this town had such a loose grasp on the concept of subtlety as did her battlewagon partner, Sloane. Not that Hurley minded Sloane's dramatic streak; she rather loved it, actually. It turned the battlewagon races from something to survive into something to enjoy, to dedicate herself to. She made it a spectacle that, even as a police officer, couldn't help but make her heart skip a beat.

However, what Hurley couldn't understand was why her heart was skipping a beat now as she turned the small envelope over in her hands. She opened it and took out the card within, looking it over again. The card only had one sentence, written in Sloane's large, blocky handwriting:

"IMPERATIVE.  
MEET ME AT BLISS' DELIGHT.  
BRING YOUR NICEST OUTFIT.  
8:30."

Hurley sighed, putting the card and envelope back in her small white bag. Gentle tremors of anxiety shook her, uncommon to her and unceasing no matter how close she hugged her arms to herself. What kind of trouble had Sloane gotten her into now? Idly, she imagined having to schmooze some crime boss by feeding him drinks and dropping things 'by accident' so she would pick them up.

Hurley stuck out her tongue at the idea and shook her head, willing the vision away. To distract herself, she looked over the small pastel-blue dress she was wearing. This kind of outfit wasn't one she would normally wear (or ever wear, really); it showed off what she felt was way too much cleavage, and stuck out like a sore thumb in the dumpy slum she was plodding through. But, it was the only one that was suitably halfling-sized at the tailor on such short notice. So, it would have to do.

Hurley turned a corner into an alleyway and saw the bar's sign dangling over a door; a simple painting of a yellow sun rising over the bright baby blue horizon, with the name of the bar, Bliss' Delight, underneath. The sign was in relatively nice condition considering the condition of the bar it hung over, but even that was being exceptionally complimentary. The bar's outside was a filthy cobblestone facade with a flat wooden roof overhead; while close to the buildings next to it, there were still more small alleys on either side. 

Oddly, the one thing that brought Hurley some solace was the fact that the bar's roof still had all of its boards intact. The moons and stars above were hidden by a sheet of black-velvet clouds, leaving just an unsettling inky blackness; having to look up and see the void still staring at her would unnerve her unnecessarily in the sensitive situation.

Hurley took one more deep breath, trying to steel herself for the danger within before gently swinging the door open. She quickly scanned the whole bar as she stepped in, trying to identify any threats. Two gnomes, edging dangerously on the edge of complete inebriation by drinking their second shot. A human, older, looking into their mug of whiskey like it were the empty sky above. The bartender, a tiefling, looking exceptionally tired from having to deal with the only person sitting at the bar…

"...Sloane," Hurley muttered under her breath, barely keeping a smile from splitting across her face. She looked up and down Sloane, impressed by her outfit; usually, Sloane tried to wear the most gaudy thing humanly possible with as many raven feathers sticking off of it as possible, but this dress was rather tame by her standards. It was a long, slender black dress that hugged her form closely, leaving very little to the imagination despite not showing much skin. It was dotted with black sequins in places, giving her dress the look of a snake crawling across the ground; otherwise, it was featureless. 

Of course, Sloane still couldn't help herself, as along with the dress she had brought a very large, fluffy feather boa made with none other than more raven feathers. It was wrapped around her neck once, allowing her long, silvery hair to spill over the back and down to the seat she was on; one that was tipping dangerously as she leaned over the counter to rant at the bartender. 

Hurley stared for a few more moments; the way the lights reflected off the dress suddenly seemed familiar, somehow. Some memory was trying desperately to rise up through a fog, something fueled by alcohol...But, just as she thought she had the memory within reach, Sloane suddenly started yelling the end of her rant, knocking her attention out of the way and making the memory retreat back into the mist.

"...And the motherfucker tells me that the wheel-shredder cost like, 5000 gold! What a load of shit, right?" Sloane ranted, punctuating the question with a long dreg from the cup in front of her. Her head quirked to the door once before turning back to the bartender, and then back again to the door when it actually registered that Hurley was standing there. "Oh, hey, Hurls!"

"Who?" Hurley said loudly, looking around. She turned back to Sloane, putting as much venom into her stare as she could. _"I am certainly not named that."_

"Oh, oops, fuck," Sloane said, covering her mouth. "Uhh, Ram. You're here. Come sit down."

Hurley rolled her eyes and walked over to sit down next to Sloane at the counter. She hunched in on herself, trying to keep her profile low. Sloane waved away the bartender, whom Hurley could've sworn said "thank Pan" under their breath as they walked away.

"So what's the score, Raven?" Hurley muttered. "Nobody in here seems like a problem."

"What-- huh?" Sloane said, arching her eyebrow. "The fuck you talkin' about, Hur-- Ram?"

"The deal, or whatever!" Hurley hissed. "You said it was imperative I come, so I figured you had some bad shit go down!"

"Oh! Oh, hell no! No, 'course not, fuck," Sloane said, laughing. "Oh man, I should've written more on the, the...the letter, thing. I was kinda nervous about the whole shebang."

"What?" Hurley asked, sitting back out of her slouch. "Then why am I here?"

"Um, just kinda...wanted to get a drink with you?"

"Wha…?"

"Like, I mean, as a…" Sloane started. To Hurley's complete surprise, a slight flush was starting to spread across Sloane's pale cheeks. She started gesturing in the air, spinning her hands around each other and pointing them in various directions. "You know, like, a kinda...The thing you do, when you wanna like…"

Hurley's eyes shot open as she looked over Sloane's outfit again. Then, she looked at her own, and at Sloane's face as she bumbled over her words. All of these aspects, combined with the fact that it wasn't a job meant only one thing.

"Oh my God, is this a date?" Hurley asked. "Are we on a date right now?"

"Oh, man," Sloane said, scratching the back of her head. "You just came out and said it. I mean, like...yeah? Yeah, basically…"

"Oh my God." Hurley repeated, and went back into her slouch, covering her face with her hands.

"Is that not okay?" Sloane asked. "Sorry, I really know I shoulda said something on the letter but like I just got ahead of myself with the gold trim and--"

"It's fine," Hurley said. "It's fine, I just thought this was like some kinda crime boss meetup and so I got the bustiest dress I could find and oh my _God_ this thing goes down to my _navel."_

There was a brief pause that hung heavy in the air before Sloane burst out laughing, slapping the bar counter a couple times. Hurley gaped for a moment before joining in, snorting loudly and braying laughter, so much so that she had to lean over and grab onto Sloane's arm for support. Or, at least, so much that she could be forgiven for seizing the opportunity to latch onto Sloane.

"You-- you know I was-- snrk-- I was kinda wonderin' about the dress," Sloane said, wiping the errant tears off her face. "You never struck me as a 'let me get my whole tit out' kinda gal."

"I'm not! I'm so fucking not," Hurley said, still snorting inbetween words. "I have like a couple nice suits at home for this kinda shit! Instead you got me sitting here with my tits fuckin' jumping out everywhere!"

"I mean, I sure as hell ain't complainin'..." Sloane mumbled, bringing her whiskey glass up to cover her wobbly, sheepish smile.

"What, you like my tits or something?" Hurley asked, smiling deviously. Without breaking eye contact, she raised a finger to the bartender; they gave another loud, pronounced sigh and slid a spare glass down the table directly into Hurley's other opened hand resting on the table. Sloane's eyes widened, darting between Hurley's cleavage, the glass, and the bartender.

"I, uh, I like your...everything, Hurl-- Ram." Sloane took another shaky sip. She clearly hadn't been prepared for such a dramatic reversal on Hurley's part. Hurley's body was swept over with warmth, revelling in seeing her usually mouthy, bullheaded partner suddenly taking unsteady, tottering steps all around her.

"Please, honey, call me by my real name," Hurley said. She grabbed the bottle of whiskey by the neck, tipping the neck and emptying a few ounces of the rotgut into her glass.

"You just told me to--"

"That was before I knew we were both off-duty," Hurley intoned, taking a long sip from her glass.

"F-Fuck, Hurls, when did you get so smooth?"

"From the moment our lives weren't on the line," Hurley said. She paused, and made direct eye contact. "Sloane."

Sloane's eyes widened, and she turned straight forward, hunching in on herself slightly. She gave a short laugh, more anxious than actually amused.

"Hurls, take it easy! This dress ain't leave much room for my diviner's rod, and I don't think this bar's ready to behold something like that."

Hurley gasped as though she were scandalized and snorted loudly again. "Holy shit, Sloane. Your 'diviner's rod'?"

"Hell yeah! Cause whenever someone sees it, I can see their future."

"You need to stop, Sloane," Hurley said, barely holding back a gigglefit.

"I mean, granted, that future usually involves cum, but--"

 _"Stttoooppp,_ oh my _god!"_ Hurley said, laughing and pushing Sloane. "Don't you have _any_ shame?"

"Me? God, no, I ditched that lame shit ages ago," Sloane said. "You don't get to where I am keeping your dignity in tow."

"I don't know why I even bothered asking," Hurley said, draining her glass. A silence fell over the two, making Hurley take a deep breath. A date. This is a date. A date…

Hurley took a surreptitious glance up and down Sloane as she sipped from her own drink. Hurley poured her own again, trying to sort out her feelings in the rare short silence.

She took a sip, suddenly grimacing at the hard, sour taste of the whiskey; she found it odd that she hadn't noticed it until now. But, then again, she had been ignoring a lot of things when in Sloane's presence lately. This wasn't unexpected, she supposed. During races, Hurley had felt sparks of feeling for Sloane; at the time, she always brushed them off as jittery adrenaline making her emotions spin around her and grab onto anything nearby. But lately, those sparks had been sticking around long after the race had ended. 

Her mind flashed to moments where she had been taken off-guard by her dear partner. In the garage, when Sloane was covered in grease, her slender arms scuffed and scraped from wrestling with the battle wagon...in tense negotiations, watching her play cool even though she could see the strain in pretending in her shoulders and her neck...and especially at that one afterparty, where the two had…

Hurley's eyes suddenly widened. The afterparty. She had entirely forgotten about that. She and Sloane had both had a bit too much whiskey, and they had danced wildly into the night, ending outside in each other's arms…

Hurley covered her mouth with one hand. How did she forget that? How did she forget that entire night? That must be why Sloane brought her here in the first place. She had gotten ahead of herself, gotten VERY far ahead of herself, and so Sloane felt confident enough to bring her here.

"You okay, Hurls?" Sloane asked, startling Hurley out of her fugue. She snapped her head to face Sloane. "You look like you've got somethin' on your mind. Was the rod joke a bit much?"

"I'm-- I'm sorry, no, you're fine, I...I just remembered…" Hurley muttered, trailing off.

"Remembered what?"

"The, the...the afterparty, that time…"

"The what?"

"The party! After our last win!"

Sloane squinted at Hurley, the gears of her mind turning almost audibly as she tried to process what Hurley was saying.

"Wha…"

"Do you not remember either?" Hurley asked, her face falling slightly.

"I guess...not? Bring me to speed a bit, would you?"

"It's…" Hurley said, then hiccuped. "Oh, whoof, I drank that a bit fast, I think…"

"You are lookin a lil wobbly, heh heh," Sloane said. "And I don't just mean your tits this time."

"Hey, shut it!" Hurley said, smiling. "I can tell you're not much better off, you lightweight!"

"Oops, true," Sloane said. She burped loudly to punctuate her point, then grinned. "Yeah, it's true, I get just the _worst_ cases of whiskey dick. Otherwise I'd be standing straight at attention, promise."

"I'm gonna fuckin' deck you, jackass!" Hurley said, again dissolving into laughter. "Okay, but actually, no, wait, before I forget again. You really don't remember the afterparty?"

"Not really…? I kinda remember like, you had one'a your nice suits on, and then we danced, and…" Sloane said, trailing off. "Then, nothin'."

Hurley really couldn't blame Sloane for not remembering; she only barely remembered herself. But, she still wanted Sloane to remember...to understand, at the very least. She looked at Sloane's eyes, and immediately her brain fired off an idea, piercing the fog of liquor clogging her senses; perhaps not the best one, but the alcohol in her system convinced her that it was worth a try.

"Here. Let's pay the tab, and I can remind you," Hurley said, reaching into her bag and taking out around a dozen gold pieces, and putting them on the counter.

"Huh?" Sloane said, but before she could ask a proper question Hurley had grabbed her by the hand and was dragging her outside.

"Come on," Hurley said, her face stoic, but her heart hammering out of control.

"Where we goin'? Wasn't I supposed to pay for the booze? I invited you here and everything…"

"Shut up for a minute."

Hurley went outside, wheeling around a corner and dragging Sloane into one of the alleyways next to the bar. The darkness of the night, at first unsettling, now wrapped around the both of them like a blanket, hiding them from any prying eyes that might wonder why Goldcliff's premier battle wagon duo had ducked into an alleyway late at night.

Hurley brought Sloane in close and then pressed her against the wall, trying to stay as close to their last encounter as she could manage from the patchy memory. She surrounded Sloane by pressing her palms into the wall on each side; she had no method of escape, but Hurley very much doubted taking flight was anywhere near her mind.

"H-Hurley, holy shit--" Sloane started, and then cut herself off. "Wait. Wait…"

"Do you remember now?" Hurley said, smiling bright, but knowing her expression was lost in the dark.

"I'm starting to...remember something…" Sloane muttered dreamily. "I think I crouched down like this…?"

Sloane bent down as far as her dress would allow until Hurley could feel Sloane's shuddering breath against her cheek.

"Yeah, you did. You know what happened next?"

An extended moment of silence fell between them until Sloane spoke. "Oh, uh, no. I was shaking my head there. Probably hard to tell."

"It's okay. Keep your face still."

Hurley reached one of her hands up to grab Sloane's chin, steadying it, and then plunged into Sloane's lips, pressing her body into Sloane as best she could.

Sloane jolted for just a moment, shocked, before she put her arms around Hurley and held her tight enough for Sloane to fall back onto her ass, sitting against the wall. Hurley took it in stride and straddled Sloane's lap, grinding against her gently as she continued to tangle Sloane's mouth around her own.

They broke apart briefly, taking heavy breaths. Their eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, and found each other grinning madly, eyes alight with excitement.

"I think I remember now," Sloane croaked, making Hurley snort again before diving back in to Sloane's embrace, biting Sloane's lip gently before snaking her tongue into Sloane's mouth. Sloane gripped the back of Hurley's dress tightly, her sharp nails feeling like talons against her skin.

Hurley began to grind into Sloane once more, making her give a short, sharp moan into Hurley's mouth and causing the hand clutching her back to clench. However, as she tightened her grip, a small ripping noise suddenly echoed through the alleyway, making them break apart and look at each other in shock.

Hurley looked at herself and saw a strap of her dress hanging down; Sloane had ripped it apart in her excitement. One breast was now fully exposed to the night air, making Hurley hug an arm across herself to cover up. Hurley looked around to see if anyone saw, but only saw that the night sky had changed; the blackness was starting to be broken up by the first rays of sunlight, creating gentle waves of orange and violet in the clouds above.

"Hurley, you lied to me," Sloane whispered.

"Huh?"

"You said you weren't a 'get your tit out' kinda girl, Hurls," Sloane said, toothy grin seemingly shining even in the blackness. "And yet, here is your tit."

"Fuck you!" Hurley said, slapping Sloane playfully. "It's your fault, dipshit."

"Whoopsie-daisie. Big oops on my part."

"Yeah, you bet," Hurley said, standing up. "Well, only one thing for it now."

"What's that?" Sloane said, also standing up and dusting off her ass.

"We'll have to go back to my place so I can get into something more decent."

"Back to your--" Sloane repeated before blowing out a puff of air. "Oh, God. Yeah. Yeah, let's do that right now immediately."

"Follow me," Hurley said, holding her bag up to cover her breast as she and Sloane dashed away into the city's streets. "Let's make this something we can remember for the rest of the day, too."

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is dedicated to close friend bargain-ghost, who is lovely and a dear and deserves as many stories about gay girls as her heart can handle


End file.
